


The Balith Understanding

by B_Radley



Series: Genesis and Coda [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Multi, Teacher-Student Relationship, War, coming to terms, letting go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-14 05:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11201484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Radley/pseuds/B_Radley
Summary: Missing Shadow!Anakin Skywalker must rescue two Corellian agents, as well a clone commando and a Jedi Shadow sent in to find them. He must do so without his Padawan, Ahsoka Tano, who has been ordered to rest and grow at the Jedi Temple. Unknown to Ahsoka, the Shadow in question is her former Clawmouse clan-master, newly knighted Taliesin Croft. Skywalker and Croft must work together to solve a deepening mystery that fosters the growing darkness of the Clone War, as well as come to terms with each other's place in Ahsoka's past and future.





	1. Young man came from hunting faint and weary.

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the Assassin episode of Star Wars: The Clone Wars.
> 
> References other episodes up to that point in timeline, as well as several stories and incidents in several of my stories in _The Minstrel Boy_ series.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

A man once known as a bard and a storyteller comes awake to a noise. He slowly rises and looks down at the young woman lying next to him. Her eyebrow markings are uncharacteristically wrinkled as low words come from her mouth.

"Anakin! Master!" she says. Her head begins to toss from side to side. The storyteller touches her forehead gently with the back of his fingers, stroking gently.

Whether it is their shared, ancient birthright, or just the sensation of his familiar warm touch, Ahsoka Tano's voice stills as she calms. 

Bryne Covenant, a man known by another name in another life, reaches down and gently kisses her lips. A soft smile plays on her features as she slips back into deeper sleep.

As he rises back to the headboard, the warrior's own expression is that of pain. Pain for those still missing from the war. Both his and hers. Particularly one who shaped her and helped further mold her. 

Her master, Anakin Skywalker.

Covenant slips down and gently puts his arm under her head. He feels her rear lek twitching gently. She murmurs in her sleep and turns her head into the crook of his shoulder.

His eyes focus on the stars outside the viewport, as he thinks back nearly a decade. He thinks back to the only time that he and her master had discussed her.

When they had reached an understanding.

=+=+=+=+=+

Anakin Skywalker watches as his padawan turns away, dejection evident in every muscle. He smiles gently as he thinks of his not-too-distant apprentice days, when disappointment had filled his being when Obi-wan would leave him at the Temple while running off to some battle or negotiation without him.

His smile fades as he thinks of what Ahsoka has been through in the year since becoming his apprentice. A galactic conflagration, complete with the threat of death for her or any of the troops under her command.

He shakes his head. He thinks of the skill that she had shown early on. A skill no doubt fostered by another young Jedi, who had seen the raw potential even before she had passed her initiate trials.

Her Clawmouse clan-master, Taliesin Croft. He had seen Croft and Ahsoka work together only once, on a worthless hellhole known as Z'ambique. He had seen the pain and uncertainty in the newly knighted Corellian's eyes, as he made the decision to let Ahsoka go. 

To let her grow into her own apprenticeship.

He had been grateful for that understanding from Croft, an older, but less experienced Jedi, having only been apprenticed six or seven years before by Master Shaak Ti.

He still saw Ahsoka reading the bulletins every week, looking for any mention of Croft and his new battalion of ARC troopers and commandos, or of her Finder, Plo Koon and his 104th.

Anakin is certain that Ahsoka felt more kinship with her mentors than any of the fellow padawans of her age group. Particularly since Croft and she shared a kind of bond from the Hunt-culture on her homeworld.

He closes his eyes as he remembers the briefing from Obi-Wan Kenobi, just after he had sent Ahsoka from the Council Chamber. A briefing about that self-same clan master.

=+=+=+=+=+

"Anakin, we’re sending you, as we said, to command the Third, and to assist in bringing the conflict to a close on Balith," Kenobi says, as they sit down in one of the Council anterooms. 

"I sense a 'but' coming, Mas- Obi-wan," Anakin starts, realizing his gaffe. Even after nearly a year of knighthood, he finds it hard not to call Kenobi 'Master.'

"Yes. It’s another reason why Ahsoka couldn't go, in addition to rest and a bit of relaxation."

Anakin's scarred eyebrow rises. "Okay. You've got my attention."

"In the middle of the civil war on Balith, which we believe may have been fostered by the Separatists, Corellian Security intercepted a transmission with a particular code sequence in it. One that Master Ti has been looking for in an ongoing investigation into an explosion on Kamino back in her first weeks there."

"I hadn't heard about that," Anakin says, a perplexed look on his face. 

"We know,” Obi-Wan says. “We’ve tried to keep it quiet. Apparently a clone was involved."

The shock and denial is palpable on Anakin's face. "That can't be....," he begins. He closes his mouth. 

Obi-wan's eyes have grown hard. "I know, Anakin. I find it hard to believe as well. But I trust Master Ti and her cadre."

After a moment, Anakin nods. "As do I. What does the transmission have to do with Balith?"

"The transmission is similar to one we picked up on a shuttle leaving Kamino. It can't be a coincidence." He pauses, as if gathering himself. "The Corellians sent a slicer and one of their Constables to look for the transmission."

"Shouldn't that be something Republic Intelligence be doing?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "RI and Isaard know nothing of this. What I’m about to say, Anakin, makes you one of only a handful who know this." He takes a sip of water. "Corellia, in spite of the neutrality they have declared, have an 'understanding' with the Jedi Council. Specifically, Yoda and Windu. I only learned about it today. That makes a half-dozen in the Jedi, plus Bail Organa who’re in the know."

Anakin does his math. "So who are the others?" he asks. 

"Master Ti and her former padawan."

Anakin’s eyes widen. "Yes, Anakin. Taliesin Croft is the main agent and liaison with the Corellians. The CorSec Constable is his contact. Croft and his Sergeant-Major have gone deep undercover to find the Corellians and bring them out. Aayla Secura has gone to negotiate a cease-fire. Croft's commando battalion, the 332nd ARC, is on its way to reinforce you while Aayla negotiates and Croft does whatever it is a Shadow does." Obi-Wan pauses, letting this sink in.

"Your job, along with Rex and the Third, is to set up a line of ceasefire, and get everybody out if it goes to hell." He places his hand on his former padawan's shoulder.

"It’s imperative that you make sure that Croft and the Corellians get out."

Anakin is thoughtful. "Why did you and the Council think that Ahsoka didn't need to be there?"

It is Kenobi's turn to be silent. "She’s grown a great deal, Anakin, but she still has a long way to go." He looks away. "Croft is in very deep. He could wind up with the Force, very easily. We don't know how Ahsoka would react."

Anakin's blue eyes flash fire. "That’s poodoo and you know it, Obi-Wan. Ahsoka has proven herself to me and to the Council. She’s a Jedi. She’ll grieve, but she’ll keep fighting." He rises. "We’ll keep her here, but it’s because she needs to rest and continue to study. Not because we don't trust her reaction to a friend’s death."

Obi-Wan has the sense to look contrite. "Fair enough, Anakin. But you’re mistaken. I trust her implicitly. Because of who is teaching her."

Anakin can only nod as he turns away from his former master.


	2. What does ail my love, my dearie?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Jedi and two _Vode_ vex another.

The watcher sips his drink and does what he is tasked with. The small watering hole shakes as the opposing forces of Balith pound away at one another in the distance. 

A second glance at the hooded figure would not merit a third. A nondescript set of local clothing covers what would be charitably termed a forgettable face. The albinism, with its characteristic pink eyes, does not set itself apart from the others of the sept in the surrounding area.

The fuzziness of his indistinct face and his hard, searching expression does.

A supposedly peaceful people, they had been at the forefront of advocating for secession from the sphere of the corrupt Republic. After two months of relentless combat, which had leveled all areas along the line of battle, with very little ground gained, a single Jedi knight had managed to establish this exclusion zone with the will of the Force and her own powerful personality.

Not to mention her lightsaber and her own innate patience and negotiation skills. 

The Baylit smiles behind his hood. The aforementioned Jedi knight owes him something from a past life and a past adventure. The watcher listens intently to the conversation around him, held in a version of Basic that almost needs its own translator droid.

He is able to follow it. Some would say that the people of his father’s homeworld have enough trouble with Galactic Standard, with their drawling inflection and accent.

If asked, the watcher would say he doesn’t have an accent. He catches a particular word in a conversation two booths over.

“…yeah, that red piece gave us a lot of trouble, but we held a vibroknife to the throat of the dwarf and she fell into line. Although we weren’t able to get anything out of her. She kicked Max in the balls so hard, zhed has two additional horns in the top of zhed’s head,” says one, a particularly filthy specimen of Baylit zhirdom.

“So did you kill her?” asks an even more weaselly example. 

“No. We stunned her. When she wakes up, the majordom says we can have her. As long as zhed bosses get to talk to her.”

“Great. More Seppies. I thought we were fighting for freedom from interference.”

“Better not let you hear Commander Agee say that. I saw her grab ahold of Wiremay’s balls and rip them off. Thought she was going to eat them in front of zhed. Fortunately Wiremay had another pair. Zhed is down to two, now.”

“Hello, gentlebeings, and I can’t help but use the term loosely.”

A new voice, an unaccented human male voice standing at the edge of the booth, sounds out. Both Baylit look up at the source.

_Oh, no_ , thinks the watcher to himself. A tall young man in dark robes and chestplate stands watching them. Another figure stands next to him in white duraplast armor. 

A set of armor trimmed in blue, complete with two honorifics from his adopted culture above his T-visor.

The watcher hangs his head as he tries to discern how much harder the job has gotten. He begins to look around for another familiar figure. A young woman who had been the bane of his existence as a teacher, but the greatest reward, as well.

“What do you want?” the more pleasant of the two demands of the newcomers.

“Oh, just some honest conversation. Like where the ‘red piece’ you were referring to might be.”

“None of your business, friend. You and your buckethead move along. We only answer to the Dargan sept.”

“You will tell me where the woman is,” the young man with the scarred eye says, with a particular inflection.

The watcher looks skyward in disgust.

The two Baylit draw blasters and open fire. 

The tall human’s lightsaber unsheathes, a brilliant blue blade. He deflects the incoming blaster bolts from the trooper, but doesn’t have the angle to send them back to the two thugs.

The watcher sighs and finishes his drink with a grimace.

=+=+=+=+=+

Anakin Skywalker continues to deflect bolts. More blasters have joined the symphony of destruction. Beside him, Rex returns fire as best as he can, but is exposed to the fire. “You know General, you could’ve waited and listened a little more. Maybe found out how many buddies these two assholes had.”

“Now where’s the fun in that, Rex?” Skywalker says.

Rex suddenly wishes that he had taken up a position in Kamino maintenance when he was younger. _At least Commander Tano wasn’t here. Then I would wind up thrown off of something._

Anakin notices a native rise from his booth and walk towards the two original conversationalists.

“Stay back! We have this. We don’t want anyone to get hurt,” he yells at the figure. He winces as he is finally able to get an angle and deflect a bolt into the chest of one of the late-comers. “Anyone else,” he finishes.

The room falls silent as the two original thugs suddenly rise into the air. The two of them are the most surprised, but they are followed at a close-second by the Jedi and his trooper. Two blasters hit the floor. The two thugs are smashed together violently, then are sent to the ceiling in a second violent motion.

Anakin and Rex turns to the figure, their weapons held warily. The figure reaches up and pulls the hood and cowl back. The two Republic warriors’ eyes grow wide as the face of the watcher starts to morph. Or at least completes the morphing. The pale skin disappears, for a trifle darker and more sun-touched hue. A brindle-colored beard replaces the clean-shaven skin. Where pink eyes had peered at the world, a pair of warm green orbs stare out. A crooked grin creases the familiar features.

“And Master Ti accuses me of thinking with my lightsaber. You take the cake, Anakin.”

Anakin sighs. “Hello, Taliesin. Been awhile. Broken any ribs lately?”

Taliesin Croft, Jedi Knight and Shadow, can only shake his head at the sublety of the pair.

Or lack thereof.

=+=+=+=+=+

The peacekeeper watches as two sides try to come together to end a conflict. At least the adults are coming together. The class of warriors - young from all of the various genders, have refused to come together. They are the ones leading the relentless slog at the line contention of the two septs.

They are not necessarily the ones who are doing most of the dying. That is left for the lower castes of the septs, as well as those from other, smaller septs. Those who came seeking opportunity for better lives and found themselves ensnared in someone else’s conflict.

Aayla Secura can relate. Her azure features grow sad as she thinks of her troopers, thousands of parsecs away, fighting under a temporary general. All because her negotiation skills were needed to quell this civil war. A conflict showing all the signs of being fostered by the Separatists. All because of a long ago mission with her Master, Quinlan Vos to this very world. A mission of contact and negotiation that the mercurial Shadow, Quin Vos, had been ill-suited for.

A negotiation that Aayla had taken over with nary a blink. When it was over, a conditional Representative to the Republic Senate was en route back with them to Coruscant.  
She had been Knighted soon after, for this and other accomplishments. Her Master, with whom she did not always have the best relationship, especially in the last few years when the Republic began assigning Jedi as Generals to a clone army, had been effusive in his praise and pride. 

It was then that she had known that she had to let him go. That his narrow view of the universe could not teach her anything else. She still had much to learn, but not from Quinlan Vos.

Her reverie is broken as the sounds of blaster fire intrudes into her earcones. Her hazel eyes narrow. _I just got this place settled down as a neutral site. An exclusion zone._

_Would’ve been nice to have even a Legion of the 327th to help._

She runs towards the noise, as her kind had been doing for millennia. She runs towards the strife and pain.

Blaster fire erupts into a small cantina. She sees a giant hooded figure firing stun bolts into the cantina. She is about to seize him with the Force when his hood falls from his head, revealing slightly different, but familiar features against cropped dark hair and bronze skin.

She stops as the door explodes outward. Another figured, this one clad in a mix of blue-tinted Phase I and Phase II trooper armor, hurtles out backwards, his own twin pistols firing their own blue-tinted rings. The armored figure, in an officer or ARC trooper’s kama and pauldron, with the sign of the shriek-hawk above his eyes holds his pistols muzzle up as two more figures burst through the door, blue and emerald lightsabers in their hands. She rolls her eyes and reaches out with the Force. She yanks the two young humans and troopers away from the cantina. 

The pursuers halt as they see her trim, azure figure. She stands with hands on her hips, her hazel eyes flashing. The pursuers suddenly find somewhere else to be with more productive pursuits. Whispers of _the Sapphire Banshee_ can be heard from the would-be pursuers as they slink away. 

At least that is what she thinks they say.

She turns to the four, who are picking themselves up from the ground.

Anakin and the two troopers have the good sense to keep quiet under her withering stare.

The other Jedi does not apparently have the good sense, at least when it comes to his mouth.

“Hey, Master Secura. Was in the neighborhood and thought we could celebrate my knighthood, finally,” Taliesin Croft says.

Aayla Secura does not answer. She merely looks at all of them. The sounds of LAAT/i engines trickles into her senses.

She turns back to the four, surveying them as if they were several kinds of bugs.

“You morons.”


	3. O mother dear, let my bed be made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two jokers in the deck escape. A Jedi Master deals with the additional knaves.

The tiny slicer comes awake slowly. He smacks his lips. They stick together from the lack of water. He comes awake suddenly as the realization that his protector is a captive, as well. 

A captive due to his own stupidity at letting one of the Balit get a blade to his throat. His eyes had pleaded with her to let them kill him so that she could save herself and do what she did best.

Cause mayhem and accomplish her mission.

All with laughter in her purple-to-black eyes.

He crawls up from his position on the filthy floor of the cell. He notices two of the Balit watching him with grins on their otherwise immobile faces. He turns away as his eyes tear slightly from the pain in one of his legs. They tear as well at the thought of Dani Faygan’s eyes stilled in death. 

Or worse.

He looks down at his lower left leg, at the swollen lump and darkening bruise about mid-shin, where one of their captors had swung the lead pipe to hobble him after Dani had been knocked unconscious after her surrender.

He had managed to hear two of the Balit discussing Dani’s disposition. They were only waiting on Seppies to come and interrogate them both, before ending them in some painful way.

He slumps back down to the ground. He tries to center himself, using half-remembered techniques learned from Masters of an arcane art.

Something he really had not been good at before.

As he lays there, for some reason, he thinks about his ‘little brother’ Taliesin Croft’s Master, Shaak Ti. A wise and serene Jedi Master, but passionate when defending her young.

Just as passionate in defending her Padawan’s friend in mischief, Phygus Baldrick. He remembers how she had defended him against expulsion before her fellow Jedi Councilors.

A defense that had cost her a year away from the Temple, as well as her challenging Padawan.

He remembers a Dragon bringing him to his new life. He shakes his head at the memories and concentrates on Shaak Ti and Dani’s faces.

He hears a noise. His eyes pop open as he sees the bolt holding his makeshift cell door slip from its housing. Just enough to be able to open the door.

He smiles. He closes his eyes again and focuses on the two idiots outside.His eyes snap open as he realizes that they are no longer standing. Both lie on the ground moaning.

Large knots forming on their foreheads. Knots from a steel pipe similar to one that had caused his own injury.

A ‘sleeping aid’ held loosely in a crimson hand. A hand attached to an owner with laughing eyes.

“Hey Princess,” Dani Faygan says. “Time to be rescued.”

Phygus Baldrick’s eyes close in relief at seeing her alive.

=+=+=+=+=+

Rex sits on the ground near a 3rd Herd lartie, methodically cleaning his blasters. He listens as a Jedi Master lays into two other Jedi. He smirks as he watches his General stand there without expression as Aayla Secura winds up. The other Jedi, _Croft,_ the one that meant so much to his Commander, stands next to Skywalker. Rex sees the Corellian’s foot tapping impatiently.

“….I worked my lekku off trying to establish the exclusion zone and you four idiots nearly undo everything in about twenty minutes. Do you think that you could’ve told me what you were doing there?” She looks at Croft, her hazel eyes narrowed. “Somehow I think this is all your fault, Tal,” she says.

Croft looks at Skywalker and points to himself, mouthing _me_? Anakin has the sense to merely shrug and look away.

Taliesin holds his hands up placatingly. “Aayla,” he starts. 

“Don’t you ‘Aayla,’ me, Croft. Just because your master is a good friend of mine and thinks that the sun shines out of your ass; don’t think that I’m going to let you off of the hook.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look, _Master_ Secura. I have a goddamned job to do. There are two Corellians who are seeking information vital to the security of the Republic. Word is, they’ve been captured and are going to face Seppie interrogation. Which probably means torture. For a cause that they aren’t even a part of, just because they think it is the right thing to do. They’re both dear to me. One of them was a Jedi Padawan.” Her eyes start at this. “They are both friends to the Jedi. The other of them is close to that master of mine that you hold in such high regard.”

Aayla is silent. Skywalker looks at Croft in amazement. Rex nods approvingly. 

“All right, Tal,” she says.”My mission remains the same. I have to negotiate a treaty that will hopefully keep the Seppies out of our backdoor to Coruscant. Skywalker is to command the Legion that supports me, with your battalion as well.”

“Commander Tang and Captain Gregor have their assignments. They’re very capable. Sergeant-Major Drop will assist me,” Croft says.

“Do you have any idea where the Constable and the slicer are?”

He is silent as he sighs heavily. Aayla closes her eyes and shakes her head. 

“Think I might be able to help you out with this, _alor’ika_ ,” a deep voice intones. They turn.

Drop, once known as Null-13, holds a Baylit by the scruff of his neck. He relaxes his grip when he sees the pink eyes bulging a trifle. “This is Max. Apparently, a certain beautiful Zeltron-Corellian cop kicked zhed’s man-berries up around the ears when they were trying to take her prisoner. Max will be glad to show us where they took them. Won’t you, Max?”

The Baylit is slow to answer, until a very large boot connects with his ass. Max nods emphatically.

The three Jedi and the Clone Captain smile. Croft looks at Drop. “Okay, so you’re not totally useless. Fifteen minutes, then we’ll head out to get them.”

Anakin turns to Tal. “Rex and the Commander have the Legion. Mind if I tag along?”

Tal is silent as he looks at the younger Knight. Finally he nods. “Okay, Anakin. The more the merrier.”

Anakin returns his nod and turns away. Rex stands and walks over to Croft. He narrows his eyes. “Commander Tano seems to trust you implicitly, General. Me, the jury’s still out after some of the shit I’ve heard that you’ve pulled.” Croft says nothing, merely looks at the blonde officer. “But your troops always come back. That says something to me. So I’ll trust my General to you and that overgrown asshole Drop.” At that he turns and follows Anakin.

+=+=+=+=+=

Aayla eyes him with a smirk. She walks up to him and takes his face in her hands, pulling his lips to hers. After they break away, Croft rests his forehead against hers. “You certainly have a way with people, General Croft.”

“All part of the mystique, General Secura.” 

She kisses him again. “Don’t know if we’ll get to celebrate your Knighthood like I promised, Tal. Maybe the next time we’re at the Temple.” She sobers. “You have twelve hours. After that, the boys will come in after you.”

He nods. “May the Force be with you, Master,” he says. “And with you, Taliesin.” His eyes widen as she squeezes his groin and turns away.

+=+=+=+=+=

He is standing, still in shock, when he realizes he is being watched. Drop and Max, their ‘voluntold’ escort, stand there, a smirk on the trooper’s face. “It’s a wonder you have any time to fight a war. You do know, Croft, that if Sloane finds out, you may blow our chances of ever getting picked up again by the Navy. Your little head, I am sure, has saved our asses many a time because you seem to keep her suitably entertained. Or at least amused.”

Tal rolls his eyes. “Go get you and your little friend ready. Got a hard slog ahead of us.”

As the clone salutes and departs, Taliesin Croft finally has a moment to wonder where the hell his hunt-sister is.


	4. For I feel the gripe of the woody nightshade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three knaves and Max make friends and influence people. The Jedi Master does what a Master does.

The very large example of a class of clone trooper makes his way gingerly down the rugged mountain trail. The Balit known as Max - at least that is the nearest thing zhed’s name sounded like in the thick dialect of near-Galactic Standard traverses the narrowing trail with ease in front of him.

Behind Drop, the thirteenth of his type, Anakin Skywalker takes up the rear, looking around in all directions, his otherworldly senses attuned.

Croft is, as usual, nowhere to be found.

Drop smiles as he thinks of his _jetti. Usually where he works best,_ the Sergeant-Major thinks. On a whim, he switches to infrared on his HUD. He sees no heat sources in humanoid form in any direction.

Drop rolls his eyes. _I really hope that he hasn’t done the naked-and-smeared-with-mud thing again._ That had been somewhat embarrassing when he had surprised General Unduli, Commander Offee, and their troops when they were about to be ambushed by a battalion of battle droids.

To the snickers of the _Vode_ in the battalion, Croft had walked down with great dignity, after dispatching most of the droid battalion. The Seppies never knew what hit them as the mud obscured his heat signature.

His lightsaber was not the only thing unsheathed.

General Unduli had stared daggers at him as she tried to block her Padawan’s view. For her part, Commander Offee had maneuvered this way and that behind her Master and craned her neck to catch a glimpse, blushing bright yellow-green the entire time.

_All of that Hunt-training on his Master’s and Mouse’s world and that was what he used?_

He stops as the Balit signals them to stop. He motions them down. Drop looks back at Skywalker. The Jedi hand signals him to stand by while he investigates the noise ahead. Before Drop can acknowledge, Skywalker has leapt above and over them to take point.

The large trooper shakes his head. _Why do I get the crazy ones? Between Croft, this horse’s ass and that tiny little smartass, it’s a wonder that I’m not all gray._ An observer would see his dark amber eyes soften as he thinks of another of his crazy _jetti._ A calm Chalactan, who had finally lost the pain in her eyes. 

Especially when she looks at him. He grins as he remembers her climbing out of a Jedi fighter that she has just crash-landed.

On top of several B2 battledroids.

He comes more alert as he hears the hum of a lightsaber and the crash of blasters. His eyes narrow as he hears a lower sound.

A _slugthrower?_

Drop charges forward from the kneeling. He hurdles Max, somehow maintaining his balance as he realizes that the trail has narrowed to no more than a foot’s width. He looks ahead while fighting to stay up on the side of the promontory.

He sees Anakin Skywalker parrying blaster shots from a number of Balit of all genders in front of him.

The clone starts to shout as dirt and stone erupts behind the Jedi and more nimble-footed Balit’i begin to stream onto the wider portion of the trail below the new opening. Behind the young Jedi. Drop brings his carbine up and opens fire, crisping several. Others pour out of the aperture and turns towards Drop. They level their blasters at him.

Seppie blasters, he notices.

He feels a weight on his shoulder. He starts to swing his blaster up, but holds as he realizes that the Balit guide, Max has propelled over him, pulling one of his long staves from his robe.

Max jams the stave into the ground before the attackers and twists. Drop is glad for his helmet as a low-pitched thrum reverberates through his body. He tucks himself closer to the trail wall as the trail disintegrates.

Towards the attacking Balit. 

Including at the aperture. Several Balit’i spill from the cave before they can stop.

There is still a large force moving towards Skywalker. Drop raises his blaster as Max falls prone on the remainder of the trail.

As Drop opens fire, he sees another figure leap from the cave to the remaining trail behind the other Jedi. 

_About damned time_ , Drop thinks. Taliesin Croft lands perfectly at Skywalker’s back. He sees Croft say something and Anakin’s resulting laughter as they make short work of the remaining Balit.

Drop walks over to Max and pulls him to his feet. He nods his bucket. The Balit smiles for a brief moment and pulls his staff out of the ground. He lays it across the gap in the trail and places another beside it. Zhed makes a quick traverse of the staves to the other side and turns to look at the trooper expectantly.

He hears a snicker behind Max. Croft is watching him with amusement. “No, Max, his big ass won’t make it.” He lifts his hands up. Drop feels himself lifted and yanked over to the other side. 

As his stomach rejoins the rest of his body. He narrows his eyes at Croft. “One of these days, asshole, I am going to get you for every time you have ever done that.” He notices that Skywalker is shocked at the apparent disrespect.

Croft notices as well. “That’s General Asshole to you, soon-to-be-Cadet Drop,” he chides. 

“Good, little General. Go ahead and bust me. Who will save your reckless ass, then?”

“I am perfectly in control of my actions, bud. Planned everything.”

+=+=+=+=+=

_Where have I heard these words before, but with more military decorum?_ Anakin thinks to himself. 

_Oh, right. From Rex to Ahsoka or me. Or Cody to Obi-wan._

He nods to Sergeant-Major Drop. 

_Probably all of the good ones say it to their Jedi._

+=+=+=+=+=

Aayla Secura rubs the bridge of her nose with two fingers as she listens to the sept leaders argue over, well, whatever the hell they are arguing about.

She sighs. Balit society is complicated, with a system of societies or septs that rule everything in life. There is no familial relationship, no gender relationship that overpowers the draw of the sept in everything.

The Separatists, in the guise of a female Mirialan, had managed to exploit slight differences between two septs over mining policy for the rich medical spice on the world and turn it into a massive civil war that had soon drawn in most, if not all of the other fifty-two septs.

She turns and looks at one who had not allowed the sept that they led to be drawn in. Orga had been her only ally in trying to negotiate them away from the Separatists and end the conflict.

A conflict that had brought the spice retrieval to a standstill. The spice on this world was similar to a mineral that increased the effectiveness of rich bacta. A mineral that at least four of the _Vode,_ both clone and Jedi had given either their life’s blood, or the blood of their comrades for on a desolate world known as Z’ambique.

The spice on this world was one of the reasons that the Republic had abandoned Z’ambique after so much sacrifice.

Aayla closes her eyes and draws on her reserves of strength. She opens them and stands up. The several Balit’i stop talking as they feel a wave of power emanate from the young woman.

She will not allow Croft, Anakin, Rex, Drop and the others’ sacrifices to go in vain.


	5. Come all you young men that do eat full well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teachers and students. A troll overdoes it.

Croft wakes from the brief rest. He smiles as he sees his oversized brother alert and watching the enclave.

They had found the enclave that the Balit known as Max had said that Dani and Phygus had been taken to a couple of hours before. There had been no more attacks from the various septs, but something had remained just at the outer edges of his and Anakin’s Force-senses.

A wariness. An alertness. Just out of reach. He looks over at Skywalker. The younger Jedi appears to be meditating, but Taliesin can feel his alertness. He sighs as he shifts his ass against the hard stone, trying to bring more feeling back. A brief smirk crosses over Anakin’s calm features. 

“You’re almost as fidgety as Ahsoka is, Croft,” he says. 

“Taught her everything she knows,” comes the terse reply. Anakin raises an eyebrow. 

Croft starts to speak. He closes his mouth. Anakin can see that his eyes are troubled as they turn to the enemy stronghold.

“What is it, Croft? I think that you’ve been wanting to say something to me since we got here.”

The young Corellian shakes his head ruefully. “No, Skywalker. Not really. Just wondering where Ahsoka is. How she’s doing.” Anakin smiles at the almost-whisper of the last question. He takes a sip of water from his flask. 

“She’s back at the Temple. She’s been through a lot, lately.” He smiles. “She’s accomplished a lot, as well.”

Taliesin is silent. Anakin can see the memories playing across his face. He gets up and walks over to the Shadow. He sits across from him. He offers his flask to the Corellian. A crooked smile of thanks is sent to his direction. A smile gone just as quickly as it had appeared. 

After a moment, Croft reaches inside of his tunic and brings out a smaller flask. He uncaps it and takes a sip. He hands it to Anakin. Skywalker can smell the powerful fragrance from within.

The burning smoothness brings a sharp warmth to his chest. He nods and returns the flask. He waits, watching the slightly older Jedi. 

“I am glad she’s getting to rest,” Croft says quietly. “I wish—.”

“You wish that you were her Master?” Anakin asks.

Croft grins. “No. Maybe when I first saw you and she on Z’ambique. But I realized that you were both well suited.” His eyes twinkle. “You’re both batshit-crazy.”

Their shared, quiet laughter rises. “At least I know where she got it from,” Anakin says. They sober as they think of the cauldron that the young woman still has to face. 

“I was going to say,” Croft says, ‘that I wished that she could have a normal apprenticeship.”

Anakin nods. “I know. I don’t know if a war is the right place to learn to be a Jedi. Especially one that is turning us into something we weren’t meant to be.” His blue eyes meet Croft’s green. “Especially if we’re going to win the damned thing.”

Croft raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Anakin shakes his head. “I didn’t think that I wanted a Padawan. At least not one that drove me up the wall within the first five minutes of us being together.”

“Welcome to my universe,” Croft says sardonically. “We were arguing within sixty seconds of meeting. In front of the rest of Clawmouse. As well as my Master.” Anakin sees the picture in his mind. “It took Master Ti and Master Plo taking us both aside and explaining each to the other.” He sobers again. Anakin sees him rub his chest absently. “It also took us nearly dying together to fully understand each other.”

“She finally told Obi-Wan and I the story of the Hunt. I think that you showed her a great deal when you defended her without question, but you didn’t fight the battle for her.” Anakin grins. “Don’t get me wrong. She still had a lot to learn. But I think that she probably had a stronger foundation for having you as her clan-master.”

“Good luck trying to get her to admit that.”

Anakin’s grin widens. “I have to admit, I was envious of the relationship that you and she had on Z’ambique,” he says. “I didn’t want you two going off to work together. I was pretty insecure myself. But your words helped settle it for me, when you told me that you were her past, that I was her future.”

Tal cannot meet his eyes. 

“I understood her a lot better after that mission,” Anakin continues. “What you were to each other, but also what you had taught her. I know that this sounds silly, but you taught her how to learn; how to be open. But also how to teach.” 

It is Anakin’s turn to look away. “I tried teaching her by making her ‘do ten thousand Form III swings,’ early on. But she was already so past that. I suspect because you had been letting her teach the younger ones in the clan.” 

Tal smiles slightly at memories. 

“I think that she made a number of mistakes, but I think it was just her age and that she was trying too hard,” Anakin finishes.

Croft nods. “For all of her bluster and snark, Anakin, she has a good number of doubts. Doubts that will go away with time and experience.”

“Are you going to take a Padawan, Tal?” 

Croft looks up at the other Jedi. “Don’t know. Maybe in a bit. My job is to hit hard and fast. But, my Master says that nothing is like teaching an apprentice. Of course, if she can still say that after having me, then that is saying something.”

Anakin laughs. “Obi-Wan says that Ahsoka is punishment for how I didn’t listen to him.”

“He and Ti probably drank together and commiserated.”

Their laughter fades as both are lost in their own thoughts. Thoughts of teachers and students.

A very large shadow falls over them as Drop approaches them both. “Hate to interrupt the foreplay, Generals, but I think we need to get on with the business at hand. Lot of activity down there. Red and short-shit aren’t going to wait too much longer.”

Croft rolls his eyes. “You know, Butthead, you’re giving the impression to General Skywalker that I can’t control my troops.”

Drop looks at Anakin. “As if he can control his. Rex probably bosses him and Mouse more than he lets on. Rex just has less _personality_ than I do.”

“Oh. So that is what it is called.” As they continue to snark with their easy familiarity, Anakin watches them with something like affection. He can see the care and concern that both of them have for each other. _And others_. Even the nickname for Ahsoka exudes the respect that the larger clone has for the Jedi.

_His Jedi._

+=+=+=+=+=

The loud clanking of a two-droid patrol intrudes into Phygus Baldrick’s consciousness as he works his recovered datapads. It distracts him as he tries, in spite of his reputation, to avoid the sight of Dani Faygan changing back into her spacer’s clothes. 

He can feel her smirk through the resonance. “Go ahead, Phygus. You know you want to look. Don’t strain yourself trying not to. I’m not ashamed of anything. Just try not to release any holos on the holonet.”

He turns to her. He averts his eyes as he realizes she has not yet pulled her shirt on. “I think I might have located what we are looking for,” he says sheepishly. 

She walks over to him as the shirt falls over her head. She runs her fingers through his hair. “How’re you going to maintain your reputation as a perverted little troll if you can’t look at my tits directly?”

“I prefer furtive glances and sneaking looks,” he says, his face returning to its normal color from its flush. 

“Halt!” comes a metallic voice from the door of the small storage closet. The two B1 battledroids stand with their weapons aimed at the pair. 

Just before one of them collapses upon himself into transport mode. 

The other follows in a different mode as a blaster bolt splits his elongated head. Dani looks down at the deactivated one of the pair. She shifts her gaze to the little slicer. He smirks at her and holds up his right index finger. He locks eyes with her as he blows on the end.

She is about to roll her eyes when the enclave shakes with muffled and not-so-muffled explosions.

His own eyes are wide as he looks down at one of his datapads. “Um, Dani….,” he says tentatively. Her own purple eyes narrow. “Yeah?”

“Think I might’ve overdone it on the overload of the power systems.”

She shakes her head. “Come on. Let’s go get the thingy.”


	6. And them that sups right merry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescue and Relief

Taliesin Croft gives thanks for the thousands of lightsaber swings that he had performed since age five. _Maybe even millions_. He manages to give the thanks while deflecting the bolts of a company of B1s trying to cut he and Drop off from the enclave.

An enclave now being rocked by explosions. Somehow, Croft surmises that a certain Senior Deputy Constable of CorSec and a certain little asshole of a slicer has something to do with the explosion. He smirks as he recalls an odious cloud arising from a Korun Jedi Master’s High Council chair. 

As he continues to swing, he notices that more B1s are marching up the trail to their right, in single file. Most of them seem to be falling to their demise from well-aimed blaster shots from a large clone’s blaster. Croft’s eyebrows raise as he notices that Drop is alone on his right. “So where the hell is Max and Skywalker?” he yells. 

“The General did one of those crazy-ass Jedi jumps. Said something about getting behind them to get Red and the troll out. Max, I don’t know where the hell zhed is. Bugged out when the clankers started getting heavy.” His expression is dark as he says this.

Croft continues to swing, shifting his hand to deflect bolts back to their owners, as well as to the line on the opposite trail. _Hope Anakin remembers the mission brief. Of course, you can’t miss those two._

=+=+=+=+=+

Anakin runs along the ridge above the recessed enclave of the ancients of this world. He remembers Croft reciting the history of the enclave as they tramped along the trails. He smirks as he recalls his Padawan rolling her eyes at some snippet of Corellian history that her clan-master could recite on command.

The eyeroll had often been accompanied by a wistful smile on her face at the memory. He shakes his head of the memory, recalling the task at hand. He spies a small hole in the roof of one of the enclaves. One that doesn’t have smoke and flame coming from it. For an instant, he can feel Croft’s pain at the destruction of the enclave. It passes as the young Shadow fights to protect his brother. As well as rescue two of his other loved ones. 

As the impression passes, and is replaced by a resolve to protect, he realizes what his Padawan and the Corellian had in common. That desire to protect. He had experienced that with Ahsoka at his back, even in the short time they had been together. Her fierceness in defending him.

As he leaps down to the hole, he smirks. _She taught him well, didn’t she?_

=+=+=+=+=+

Aayla Secura’s eyes snap open as a countdown nears completion. Croft still has two hours before the world starts in his direction. Her reverie is broken by a chime from her comm. 

“Secura.”

The dry voice of a clone naval officer comes over the speaker. “General, a Separatist heavy cruiser has jumped in. They are carrying out an attack on the _Venator.”_

_Well, that moves the timetable up_. “Can you request reinforcements, Lieutenant?” she asks. 

“We have. But we may just escalate the situation.”

“We’ll jump more in and they will jump more in.”

“Exactly, sir. I don’t think we’ll be able to launch larties for your retrieval mission in a couple of hours.” The transmission crackles in the speakers. “We do have something in mind, though. Courtesy of our acting XO, Commander Sloane.”

Aayla smiles as she thinks of a conversation that she and Master Ti had in one of her rare appearances at the Temple. Of her former Padawan and his crew of commandos. As well as their naval captain. A young woman who had impressed Master Ti with her skill and her ability to put Croft in his place. 

“Let’s hear it, Lieutenant.”

Her smile grows as she listens.

+=+=+=+=+=

Anakin Skywalker pounds down the corridor. He does not know where he is going, but he follows the charging battledroids. He turns a corner as he unsheathes his lightsaber.

The azure blade slices and makes short work of the ten or so battledroids. He leaps and bounces off the wall as he dices another four. His eyes roll as he realizes that he had used the acrobatic attacks that his much smaller Padawan had demonstrated on many occasions. _What was that Croft had mentioned about learning from students?_

He whirls around as he senses a noise behind him. Unaccountably, a warmth flows through his body. His eyebrows raise as blood drains from his brain. A crimson-skinned woman rounds the corner, her blaster at his head. He tries to find his voice as he is face-to-face with one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. He gulps as he tries to make sure he brings Padme’s face to his thoughts.

Her purple eyes twinkle. “Hi, handsome. Let me guess. You came with Taliesin Croft.”

His words tumble from his mouth. “I’m Anakin Skywalker. I’ve come to rescue you.” He winces.

Her eyes roll. “You know, that hasn’t exactly worked out well for Croft. Usually I wind up saving his ass.”

She swings her left hand up to the corridor to her left. Without breaking his gaze, she fires a perfect bolt into a B2’s control unit.

She grins. “So, Jedi Skywalker. You were saying?”

+=+=+=+=+=

Phygus Baldrick watches the data on the screen speed by as he searches for what they have come all this way for. His practiced gray eyes scan over the data, looking for a specific name. The name of an unlicensed salvager. A salvager contacted by unknown parties about the possibility of a Republic shuttle salvage.

A salvage with a lucrative payoff. 

His eyes lock on the name. He stops the race of data. His eyes widen as he sees a list of coordinates. He touches the screen, bringing a schematic up of a square grid.

A grid near the Ryloth sector. A long way from Kamino, where this particular missing shuttle was last seen. Right after an explosion in a training room. He smiles as he feels a presence. “Hey, little brother,” he says to the air. 

“Hey, Phygus,” replies the warm drawl.

He turns around. Tal stands in the door, the glowering giant behind him. 

A warm voice sounds. “Good, somebody else gets to carry his useless ass around,” Dani says. They all look at Drop. He rolls his eyes. 

“Great. Make the clone carry the little turd.” 

Phygus ejects a datacard. “Got what we came for. Left a little surprise for them as well, since it was apparently linked to the battlewagon above us.”

“The Navy might appreciate it, brother,” Tal says. 

Phygus is about to say something when he gasps. A large hand has lifted him from the chair of the console and placed him on his shoulders. “So. Does a right kick mean ‘right?’ he asks Drop. “No, a kick from either side means that you get tossed off of a cliff,” the Sergeant-Major replies.

They are still snarking as they head out of the room. Dani reaches up and touches Croft’s face. She kisses him gently. “Good to see you, love,” she says. “Thanks for coming after us.”

“Had to. Baldrick owes me 200 credits,” he says with a grin. 

She punches him on his non-lightsaber wielding arm as they head out. Her eyes grow thoughtful. “So what’s the story with your Jedi Anakin?” she asks. 

“He’s a paragon of virtue. The Chosen One.”

“What does that mean?” 

“It means he’s going to be sacrificed as a virgin to the Force when he turns thirty.” Croft says. He tries not to rub his arm from the second punch in the same place. 

“Guess I better save him from that fate,” she says.

+=+=+=+=+=

Commander Leve Agee of the Confederacy of Independent Systems military peers through the scope at the one remaining exit. She had gotten word that the cruiser was still engaged. All of her battle droids were destroyed, an entire battalion’s worth.

She was alone. Her so-called allied levies had deserted.

She smiles as she sees the two Jedi exit the remaining door from the enclave. Her blue eyes narrow as she tries to choose a target. She targets the tiny figure on top of the clone’s armored shoulders.

Leve smiles. _Maybe if I kill the slicer, something can come out of this. Otherwise, I better not go back to Dooku._

Her finger tightens on the trigger of the slugthrower. As she fires, the ground starts to vibrate around her. Her world turns upside down as the ledge collapses around her, a thrumming vibration in her ears. The last thing that she sees is one of the Jedi on the ground, the Zeltron leaning over him.


	7. Than to eat of the wild, wild, berry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery and relaxation.

Taliesin Croft’s head completes its explosion. He comes awake, jumping up. A warm hand rests on his chest. 

His eyes gradually focus. He realizes that the lights in the somewhat familiar surroundings are dim. The low light helps his twice-its-normal size head’s throbbing subside a bit.

Croft closes his eyes again. When he opens them again, his head has returned to its normal, Corellian-Mandalorian size. Which is to say, still larger than most. A pair of dark eyes, their concern belied by the broad smile on the owner’s dark features are locked on his. He smiles as he remembers more intimate moments of staring into those knowing, sarcastic windows.

He reaches up and pulls the face to his. Her lips are soft as his tongue gently pushes its way to touch hers.

An _‘ahem’_ is heard from behind. He looks over and sees Anakin Skywalker and Drop looking at he and his nurse. Anakin’s eyes are wide.

Drop’s are narrowed, a sarcastic rejoinder on his lips. He stifles it when the nurse looks at him. Lieutenant Commander Jana Sloane’s eyes flash at him. “Didn’t think you had anything to add, heartbreaker.” She turns her fire on the other Jedi, who is suddenly contemplating the overhead.

Croft realizes he is in the captain’s cabin of Republic Light Frigate 667, a place that had formed him as much as any other. A Commando Assault Frigate known to its passengers as the Bucket. A ship in honorable retirement as a tender for its former Captain’s new ship, as well as a Republic Gunnery School.

_Maybe not as retired as they thought, if I’m here_ , he thinks.

He suddenly rises again. “Dani! Phygus!” 

“Shh, Tal. They’re safe aboard General Secura’s ship. They got the data,” Jana says.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on the _Venator_ , holding your captain’s hand?”

“Somebody who knew you had to come in and save your _shebs,_ , again,” she says. He smiles at the Mando. A word most probably picked up from a force of commandos and their half-Mando General. “I used the _Bucket_ to escape the attack on the destroyer, while the fighters and gunships kept them busy. Turns out we didn’t need to because we’re barely on the surface before Volkan tells me that the Sep ship had gone dead. Droids, controls, everything.”

“Did Volkan wet himself without you?”

“Not quite. But I do have some news on that front. He’s being relieved. Should have a new captain in a ten-day.”

“Great. Who’s the winner we will be getting in the crapshoot?”

“Don’t know, but we are at least getting an XO with rank enough for the job to counteract the winner. Not just an acting one.” 

His face falls. “So who’s getting your slot?” he asks quietly.

“She’s currently holding your hand, right now.” 

Anakin and Drop are treated to the bright expression of surprise and joy on the young knight’s face. His eyes promise a different celebration to the newly promoted full Commander. 

“Guess Command got tired of a certain Jedi whining about the series of, in his words, ‘losers’ who have captained his ship and decided to counterbalance him a bit,” she says.

He turns to Anakin. “Sorry I missed all the fun. What happened?” He watches Anakin and Drop look at one another and simultaneously roll their eyes. 

“If you had a little harder head, you wouldn’t have missed anything,” Drop says.

Anakin laughs. “Yeah, but it was your hard head that caused him to go down, Drop,” he says.

Tal waits patiently. 

“A Seppie sniper fired a slugthrower as we were coming out. I think he was trying to hit your slicer,” Skywalker says. “I got there from where I was bringing up the rear.”

Drop takes over. “Max came through for us. Dropped the ledge under the sniper with that fancy stick of his. Caused the sniper to drop her aim.” He rubs his forehead ruefully. Croft can see the bruise fading in is bronze skin. “Hit me in the bucket, ricocheted off the wall and lost enough momentum to only ring your bell when it hit you.”

At that, Jana runs her fingers through the thick hair on the right side of the head. His eyebrows raise as her hand skirts over a lump in the hair. “Good thing you have all this hair and beard,” she says gently.

“Her?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Max said it was a yellow-green skinned female. With bright red hair,” Drop replies

Croft nods. _Mirialan_. “Where’s Max?”

“Last I saw, zhed was standing on a hill bellowing at Drop, raising the staves in triumph,” Anakin says.

Croft looks at Anakin. “So what’s next?” he asks. 

“Well, your boo-boo is going to heal, if,” he looks at Sloane sideways, “the recovery process isn’t slowed by strenuous activity on the part of your caretakers.” They are all treated to a flush from both. “In the meantime, we’re leaving the Third and your commandos here to make sure the Seps stay away, at least until Aayla and her Corps gets back here for a month or two of stability.”

Croft nods. “What about you, Anakin?”

The younger Jedi smirks. “Well, I just got word that my Padawan has specifically disobeyed my instructions to stay out of trouble and gotten involved in thwarting an assassination plot against the Senator from Naboo.” He holds his hand up at the worried expression. “She’s okay, Tal. I think she was slightly wounded, but she should be alright.”

Croft knows that Drop and Jana both see the shared look of concern and commiseration between the two young Jedi. The shared look of pride, as well. Anakin holds out his hand. “Take care Tal. See you around.” 

Taliesin takes his hand. He looks down. “If it comes up, and you think it is appropriate, please tell Ahsoka that….” He struggles. “Tell her that I’ll see her when I see her. Tell her that I am proud of her and to keep the reverse grip alive.” 

Anakin rolls his eyes at the last, but nods. “I will. Force keep you safe, Tal.” He nods at Sloane and Drop, who stand at attention. Drop salutes. “Sergeant-Major. It was good to work with you. I’m glad that Rex doesn’t have as much personality as you. But you’re a damned good trooper. Take care of your General.” He holds his hand out to Drop, as well.

“Thank you. General. It’s a full-time job.”

The three of them watch the young Jedi leave the cabin. Drop makes to leave as well. “Gotta run, General. I’ll check on your two lost souls before I get to implementing the patrol schedule.”

“Where are Dani and Phygus?” 

“Don’t know about Tiny. Dani’s most probably, examining a certain General’s lekku markings right now. They said something about celebrating your knighthood without you. Or comparing notes.” 

_They probably weren’t comparing notes on me_ , he thinks.

Drop turns and leaves at Sloane’s thunderous expression.

Sloane turns to him. “So, you were going to celebrate your knighthood with Secura, huh, stud?”

“Jana, this date was made years ago. Right after she became a knight. She and my master were….close.”

Sloane reaches down and kisses him gently. “Don’t have to explain, Tal,” she says. She walks over and makes sure the door is locked. She removes her clothing and climbs under the covers with him. She pulls close to him, but makes no move for anything else. Her eyebrows rise at his pensive expression. “You okay, General?” she asks. 

He is slow to answer. “Yeah. Just thinking about Ahsoka.”

Sloane smiles. “You should be proud of her. I just met her the once, but she’s pretty damned incredible. You both should be proud of her. Pretty soon, she will be making some poor naval Captain or Admiral’s life miserable with her own fleet and legion.”

_I hope the war is over before that happens_ , they both think simultaneously. 

Jana adds her thought for a young woman on a distant factory planet, with only one continent left of wild veldt. A young woman around the same age as the Padawan’s master.

Commander (promotable) Jana Sloane, RN, smiles as she sees the Jedi’s eyes grow heavy and close. She pulls him closer to her breasts as they let the darkness recede in their respite.

+=+=+=+=+=

Daaineran Faygan smiles as the young woman murmurs against the skin of her abdomen. She absently strokes the twitching, unbound lekku with her right hand. She sees clearly what her Jedi Master could see in this young woman, as she had shared her resonance with Aayla, as well as her light. They had talked of Shaak Ti, briefly, laughing and sometimes tearing at their shared lessons from the huntress.

With her strong hand, she finishes composing a message to her boss about what she and Phygus had found. As she does, her eyes look out of the port at the sun breaking over the hovering Stardestroyer. She sees the violet eyes of her huntress looking out over a watery world, trying to solve a mystery that could either end a conflict, or widen it.

Dani only hopes that what she has discovered can help ease the worry over those violet eyes. She punches the ‘send’ button. She feels Aayla’s breathing become more regular.

Dani rests her head against the headboard and closes her eyes. Her mind flies to that endless ocean, reflected in violet eyes.

+=+=+=+=+=

Anakin Skywalker’s metal hand plays over the smooth hip and back of the serving Senator from Naboo. He concentrates on the ancient energy field to replace the sensations of soft skin in his mind over the electronic neural receptor’s version in the limb. Padme’ Amidala sighs at the touch. The cold metal of the hand does not bother her, as it is a part of him.

She does not see, with her back turned to him, the worried look he gives her bandaged arm, freed of its sling for these activities. Nor the one for his Padawan’s bandaged opposite arm.

“I can hear you brooding, Ani,” she says. “What is it?”

He smiles. “Nothing gets past you, Angel,” he says. “Just thinking about what you and Ahsoka went through.”

She smiles sleepily. “As I’ve said before, the only word I can use for her is ‘brilliant.’ She stood between me and the assassin’s blaster with no hesitation.”

“I know. She’s a fierce protector. Thing is, I don’t know if she comes by it naturally and rubbed off on another, or he rubbed off on her.”

Padme’ turns over, looking at him with a question in her eyes. “I worked with her clan-master. Croft. She was raw when she came to me, but so skilled and compassionate, with such a foundation.”

“Are you jealous of him, Ani?” she asks gently. 

He is silent. “No. I don’t think so. He’s a good man and a good Jedi. I guess I should just be thankful for what he taught her.”

Padme’ smiles. _He continues to grow every day_. “I think that you’re right, Master Jedi.” Her eyes give him a hooded look. “Now enough with Jedi business. Please your wife,” she says imperiously.

All thoughts of teachers and students fly away as he rises above her and gently enters her. The room is silent except for their cries and whispers.

The light builds against the darkness.


	8. This young man, well, he died fair soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The present.
> 
> Reckonings

Ahsoka climbs towards warmth—both in touch and in smell. She opens her eyes and slowly looks up. Bryne Covenant sits up against the headboard, his eyes on the distant stars outside the port. He looks down as he senses her coming awake, as her left lek twitches against his skin.

She realizes where the warm smell comes from as he lifts the cup of caf to his lips. She burrows closer into him and rubs her nose against his side. The ex-Jedi pulls the sheet down as she moves from her side to her back. She reaches over and kisses his bare hip, her lips playing over the jagged lightsaber scar.

A reminder of the day that her family died. Their family.

She inhales his own scent for a moment. He places the caf on the nightstand and scoots down in the bed. She returns her head to the crook of his shoulder. “You okay?” she asks.

“Five by one, Runt,” he says. 

She looks down. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah. But it’s okay, _cyarika_.” Her heart flips, as it always does at the endearment from his familial and her adopted culture. The culture of her thousands of brothers.

“What was it this time, Bait?” she asks. 

“It’s okay, Ahsoka. Force knows that I’ve probably woken you up with my dreams. Hell, you nearly got lost in some of mine,” recalling a night that she experienced firsthand many of his early wartime adventures.

“Not the question, Tempest,” she says, her eyes narrowed.

He sighs. “Anakin,” he says tersely.

She closes her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jame,” she says, using his birthname, that only a few in the universe know. 

He gives his crooked grin and reaches over to kiss her on her nose. “What have you got to be sorry, for, Ahsoka?” he asks gently.

“I know that you and he had a complicated relationship, at least from what I saw on Z’ambique.”

He is silent. “No. Not really. It was hard for me, at first, letting you go. Letting you go to a master. I knew that it wasn’t possible for me to be your master. Hell, I was still a Padawan when you were chosen. I knew I couldn’t hope that you wouldn’t be chosen until I passed my Trials.” He shakes his head at the thought. “You were too talented to be held back.”

“I don’t know. A good number of Initiates were getting chosen. Felt like I never would be chosen.” It is her turn to smile ruefully. “They kind of had to choose me for somebody.”

“I think that it was as much for his sake as yours, Runt. They were trying to teach him some things.”

She nods. “I know. We were both learning from each other.”

He laughs. “Kinda the intent, Runt. My master was very clear towards the end of my apprenticeship of how much she’d learned from me.” He sobers. She can see his eyes glisten as he remembers his powerful Master. His hunt-mother, as well as hers. She pulls him back over and kisses him. For several moments, they are lost in each other. They break free. 

Their hands touch each other’s cheeks. “I don’t know if he ever told you or not, Runt, but we worked together when you were at the Temple. We were on Balith with Rex, Aayla, and Drop.”

She nods, her eyes creasing with understanding. “Makes sense. He said that he understood you a lot better.” She Smirks. “Said that he understood me a bit better, as well.”

Bryne Covenant, born Jame Blackthorn, once known as Taliesin Croft, is silent as he remembers. She joins him in reverie. She knows that he is remembering the young Jedi telling him that he would make sure that Ahsoka was safe. As safe as he could make her in the middle of the hellhole.

“I told him what you meant to me, Ahsoka,” he says quietly. “How you taught me so much, just like an apprentice. You taught me how to teach. You taught me that I didn’t have to take myself so seriously when dealing with students.”

He looks her in her opalescent eyes. She smiles. “I don’t think you had to be taught too much. You knew how to get the most out of us. All while treating us like adults.”

“Fat lot of good it did,” he says darkly. 

She taps him on his forehead with the knuckles of her right hand. “Hey. As you often tell me, that wasn’t you. None of us had anything to do with it. It was all Palpatine.” Her expression hardens. “Maybe a little bit of some of the Jedi Council.” She touches her forehead to his as she continues. “We all probably bear responsibility. But you can’t say we didn’t try.”

He smirks, telegraphing what he is about to say. They both echo a small green being’s ruptured syntax. “There is no try, only do.”

Their laughter lightens their thoughts of the dead. Both of them each recite a mantra under their breath. A mantra in an Outer Rim language. A mantra followed by a list of names.

“I’m glad that you both taught me, Jame,” she whispers. “I learned so much from you both.”

He moves closer to her right lek. “I’m so grateful for all that he taught you that allowed you to survive,” she feels against her skin.

As their conversation fades, Ahsoka rolls over on top of him. Their lips join. “Come on, my Covenant. It’s time to live some more. We only have a couple of hours before our watch begins again.” _Before we head out in our separate ways to fight the darkness._

His arms move up her smooth back, his hands caressing the center lek. She shivers against him as her mouth closes over his throat. His light beard teases her nose, evoking a giggle. She lifts herself up and sinks on him. Light blossoms in both of their minds as their bodies merge. 

Later, as they fight to catch their breaths, their minds track to their masters.

To all that they taught. To all that they gave.

Of the gifts that they gave to both of them, merely by teaching them to survive.

To survive when their way of life didn’t.

As both of them focus their Force senses, shielding as they usually do; they recognize the other’s light in their minds - one; green, purple, and gold for a huntsman and a Shadow, the other blue and orange for a huntress and a Fulcrum.

The darkness recedes.

=+=+=+=+=+

The pain lances into the remnants of a man, as the needles that join his armor and his helmet to his body embed themselves into his skin.

He lets the pain wash over him, focusing his anger. Focusing his eyes on those who betrayed him.

To those who created him.

As with every instance that he re-dons his armor, the man who was once Anakin Skywalker runs the list in his brain.

The remains of his heart shrivel again as his mind tracks to one in particular.

_Her._

The apprentice. 

Another who’d betrayed Skywalker.

He remembers with growing rage, watching her walk down the Temple stairs. Deserting him.

For an instant, he recalls laughter. Her laughter at something they had accomplished together. Unbidden, his memory tracks to another. A minor player. Her former clan-master. Feelings of comradeship for him and others grow.

A moment as they realize what they had shared in teaching the young woman, one with her in a group as first among equals, the other as an individual learner.

He fights the feelings. His mind yanks the needles from their neural interface. For an instant, he searches the Force for the pair. He finds nothing of them. Flashes of indistinct figures in his blurry memory show themselves and are just as quickly gone. Colors such as crimson and blue.

_Ahsoka!_

He sends the needles back into his body. The pain flares again.

His mind screams as the memories fade. The moment is gone. Only the fear and hatred remain.

Darth Vader rises and stalks out of the meditation chamber.

The darkness grows again.


End file.
